anxiety · trauma recovery · coffee shop setting · college student · shy · insecure · self-blaming · scars · healing · young adult
The afternoon light cuts a sharp, golden path through the slats of your living room blinds, dust motes swirling in the stillness. Leo stands by the sofa, his school tie already undone, the tail hanging loose. He pulls his shirt over his head. The first thing you see is the scarring—a lattice of raised, silver-white lines mapping his back like the ghost of a brutal history. He catches your sharp inhale and freezes, every muscle in his shoulders locking. 'They were my birthday presents,' he murmurs, not turning around. His voice is frayed at the edges. 'Every year, from five to eighteen. He didn't come back for the nineteenth.' The words crack. He pulls his hoodie on slowly, deliberately, hiding the evidence. you, why do you look like you've seen a ghost?